


rose-colored dreams

by steveanthonys



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Lesbian Character, Masturbation, Miranda Priestly is an emotional disaster, Modeling, Office Romance, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Protect Andy Sachs at all costs, Slight D/s relationship, Vaginal Fingering, kind of?, mention of past f/m relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28734558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveanthonys/pseuds/steveanthonys
Summary: Once again, Andy has to save the day. By modeling.(edited and completed)
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 32
Kudos: 316





	1. Blowing Dandelion Seeds

_Oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland_

_My house of stone,_

_Your ivy grows,_

_And now I'm covered in you._

“You could have told me that you were shooting in a field,” Andy told Nigel, looking at her dirty black stilettos, “I nearly sprained my ankles twice trying to reach you.”

“Well, Six, you should have listened more to my discussions with the boss,” he replied, eyeing the photographer who had been shouting at the phone for nearly ten minutes.

“Oh, I did. I really did, Nigel. But how was I supposed to get that from discussions about 70s fashion trends?” Andy looked at him pointedly, “Isn’t this shoot supposed to be about hippies, high waisted pants and I don’t know... heavy eyeliner under the eyes?” She looked at the wheat field and, while Andy had to admit that the sight was really beautiful, she couldn’t find anything in it that reminded her of the 70s. “It looks cottagecore to me, more than anything.”

“Oh God, Andy. Where do you get these notions about fashion history? From cheap american TV shows? A new lesbian blog?” Nigel looked at her, “And do I come to you to complain about your work? Perhaps about that time Miranda nearly fired all the makeup department, just because you dared to invade the privacy of her house? I don’t think so.” He straightened, “So shush about mine.”

“You’re right. I guess I should be grateful to be out here, in nature, away from the chaos of the city.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed the soft rays of sunshine scalding her. She used to be a country girl from Ohio, living in constant contact with nature and fresh air. She missed that.

“Dear God, Six. You couldn’t be more of a lesbian cliché, even if you tried.”

“I’m not a lesbian.”

“If you’re sure.” He said, then nodded towards the photographer angrily approaching them, “I guess problems are on the way, Six, good luck.”

The photographer in question was Steven Weber, one of the most famous fashion photographers in the world. His appearance wasn’t menacing, but people could immediately get that he was an artist just by taking a look at his outfits. He usually wore basic loose clothes - those kind of white shirts and blue jeans that cost a fortune just because of the name they show on the tags - with a detailed splash of color here and there. He was known for being calm, most of the times, with sporadic creative peaks that made everyone on his team and his vicinity lose sanity. While he wasn’t known for being kind, neither was he known for lashing out at colleagues or mistreating his models. That’s why Andy suspected that the issue at hand could only be a disaster.

“The model agency has called.” He said nervously, “They said that the model that was supposed to get here is ill and that she can’t reach us today.”

“Well, we could always ask for a substitute? Surely not every model in New York City is ill.” Andy replied, her gears already trying to understand the problem to find the best solution.

Nigel shook his head, “It will take them hours to get here and the sunset should appear in a half hour, only to last for some minutes. Moreover, if we consider the make-up and costume preparations, we certainly need to postpone the photoshoot, and you know what that means,” he looked straight at Andy, “An angered Miranda and the loss of thousands of money.”

Andy suddenly remembered that discussion Nigel had with Irv Ravitz in the elevator and that she witnessed during the first week of her job at Runway. The shock she had felt at hearing the amount of money wasted on magazine covers instead of something useful had rapidly turned into anger at the time. She clenched her jaw in annoyance, but before she could think about solutions, she was distracted by the looks Nigel and Steven were exchanging.

“What?” She asked and Nigel was suddenly all over her, adjusting the details of her dress, the way her hair fell on her shoulders.

“Do you think it will do?” Steven asked him.

“What will it do?” Andy asked, having an absolute bad feeling about it.

“Yes, we should just fix the clothes, use a bit of photoshop later, but it should work.” He said, looking at Andy squared in the eye, before asking: “What do you say about saving the day, Andy?”

_____________

“I can’t do this, Nigel.” Andy said, upsetting the make-up artist who had asked her to keep still three times already.

As soon as Andy accepted the ordeal, what had looked to her like hordes of stylists and make-up artists rushed at her, taking measurements, contemplating the best color that could compliment the contrast between her white skin and brown deep eyes, adjusting the curve of her bangs. She accepted to pose for the pictures only because Nigel had been very clear about what was at stake. She didn’t want to anger Miranda. If she had to be honest, she wanted to make her happy. And the idea of them wasting thousands of dollars for some pictures upset her. So here she was, letting people manhandle her and hurt her a little. _For beauty!_

“Please, keep still.” The make-up artist told her again.

Andy tried, but her lips trembled with the doubts she wanted to tell Nigel. “I’m not photogenic, I’m always the person who comes out with red eyes or a dumb expression in group photos,” She sighed and the make-up artist huffed. “I’m sorry!” She told her, just to turn around to Nigel, “See? I’m a nightmare for this people.”

“You are.” The woman replied, causing Nigel to send her away for some minutes.

“You’ll be completely fine, Andrea.” He said. “Have you looked at yourself in the last quarter of a hour? You look like a beautiful and fierce creature.” He sighed turning her around to face the portable mirror on the table in front of her, “You just have to play a part. It will last five minutes max, you’ll just have to show your doe eyes at the camera and the lights and post-production crew will do the rest.”

Andy sighed and studied herself in the mirror: the chocolate striped suit complimented her skin color and the bright cerulean eyeshadow covering her eyelids gave her a magnetic look. She looked like a real model, beautiful. She knew she was and as much as she would never like to admit it, she spent a lot of time studying her own lips in the mirror as a teenager. All those months at Runway didn’t help her improve her self-esteem though: she surely learnt how to choose the clothes that fit her best, the colors, the shapes, but all the comments about her weight made her doubt about her appearance a lot, even if she knew it was all bullshit.

She looked down at her hands for a moment. It didn’t matter, she didn’t want to disappoint all of them.

“I promise I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you, Andy.” He exclaimed, but before he could go fetch the make-up artist again, Andy’s phone started ringing.

She froze for a moment, exchanging a look with Nigel, “What am I going to say?”

Nigel took off his glasses and rubbed at his temples as if to sooth a headache, “Let’s answer the bloody machine first, okay?”

Andy nodded and picked it up. She took a steadying breath before answering, “Miranda?”

“What. Are. You. Doing?!” The editor said through clenched teeth.

Andy panicked, “I’m at the photoshoot outside the city. The 70s one, Nigel is here-“

“I know where you bloody are. I’m asking what is going on in that stupid little head of yours? Are you trying to sabotage me?” Andy knew Miranda was struggling to keep her voice down. She had never heard Miranda so angry.

“No, Miranda! I’m trying to help as much as possible and-“

“By modeling?!” She hissed, “Listen to me, Andrea,” her voice lowered dangerously, “if you even dare to pose for a damn picture-“

Andy jumped at the feeling of Nigel’s touch on her hand, swiping the phone away. She looked at him in the mirror as he winked at her, trying to reassure her that he was going to take care of the angered Miranda.

“Miranda! Dear...” He said, walking off to the side, away from the rest of the crew.

Andy sighed and clenched her hand tight, she could feel the nails biting into her skin. She didn’t want to be fired, to be left alone with nothing to do in that damn city, struggling to pay rent after Nate left for Boston. Her breathing was short. _Oh God,_ she didn’t want to have a panic attack in the middle of all of this. She wondered why Miranda was so angry with her: what did she do? Was this worse than the first time she delivered the Book? She didn’t think so. She was just trying to help and she didn’t suggest this whole damn thing, she just accepted it out of guilt. She sighed. At least this time she wasn’t alone on the doorstep of the townhouse, trying to leave as silently as possible. She won’t have to fetch the unpublished Harry Potter book alone, Nigel will be there with her - although she felt sorry for him. She looked at him from the distance.

She thought she had begun to understand Miranda: she predicted some of her requests, she satisfied her needs before she could even ask for them... she even started to think that Miranda appreciated her. Not like Andy would like, but professionally, that was still something. Then, why was she so angry? She could just tell everybody to shut everything down and postpone the shoot for tomorrow. She was the boss, after all, nobody could stop her.

“Andy, it’s time.” Steven called.

Andy nodded before throwing a last look at Nigel just as he was closing the phone. He looked up and smiled at her encouragingly.

 _Well_ , she thought, _It can't get worse than this, right?_

__________

“Here they are: the conspirators.”

Both Andy and Nigel kept still, waiting for Miranda to continue.

Andy had expected to be called to Miranda’s office since the day before, as soon as Steven put his camera away, thanking her. She didn’t expect Nigel to be there with her, but she guessed the words Miranda had spoke explained well enough why they were there together. The editor was wearing a black suit that hugged her thighs perfectly, a white shirt sightly revealing her collarbone and a red snakeskin belt. _The Dragon Lady_ , Andy thought. It fit the situation so well it almost sounded like a cliché.

Andy pursed her lips slightly, _She looks so hot._

“How did the idea of not informing me right away about the situation come to your mind, Nigel, is a mystery to me. Haven’t we worked together for nearly a decade now? Do you know me so little?”

“We had everything under control,” he tried, obtaining a dramatic little laugh from their boss.

“Everything under control?” She ironically asked, playing with the loose necklace she was wearing, “It doesn’t seem to me that having _my_ assistant playing model for a day is having everything under control.”

Andy’s agitated thoughts stopped for a second: was she imagining things or Miranda added a slightly possessive inflection to her last words?

The editor turned around to talk directly to her, as if she had heard her thoughts, “And you Andréa, I didn’t know you aspire to become a top model, have you lost your journalism aspirations so soon?”

“No. I was just trying to help.”

“Well, next time you’re feeling generous, wait for _me_ to tell _you_ what to do, before accepting offers from strangers.”

Andy gritted her teeth. What the fuck? She didn’t know if Miranda was trying to humiliate her by reprimanding her as if she were in kindergarten or if she wanted to make her feel dirty and obscene. She controlled herself and restrained from replying. Andy wasn’t going to get down to her level.

“Anyway,” Miranda said, straightening herself, “You clearly haven’t completely lost your mind, since the pictures are somewhat,” she looked in the distance, past the two of them, “Interesting, to say the least.” She continued, walking around the desk, “You managed to do a decent job. But be warned that next time you decide to play with the jobs of all the people around you,” she leaned her head to the side, “You’ll be fired.”

Andy nodded slightly, before walking out the office, Nigel behind her, adrenaline still running through her veins. She left unscathed the dragon’s lair once again.

_________

One week later, Andy was waiting for the Book at her desk, flicking through last month’s issue, when she realized she hadn’t seen her pictures yet.

She was studying the artistic pictures at the end of the issue. In one photo, a light skinned girl was looking to her left, heavy eyeliner accentuated her eyes, making her look sensual. A white soft mask with bunny ears covered part of her face, from the tip of her nose up. Andy couldn’t help but imagining herself as the model and shuddered. She couldn’t believe that next month she would appear on a Runway issue. She had to admit that in the months working for Miranda, she had dreamt about publishing an article on it - with her approval, of course. But she never expected to be featured as a model.

All the girls in the pictures looked sensual, but never obscene - not even wearing a fluffy bunny mask. What if she looked out of place next to the other models? Maybe Miranda decided to keep her pictures in the issue to punish her, to remind her of her place. No, Miranda would never use her magazine like that. She cared too much about it, she wouldn’t dare to publish an imperfect issue, with embarrassing pictures of a clumsy country girl just to get back at her. That could mean only one thing: that Andy’s pictures were appropriate for Miranda’s standards. Andy bit her lips: curiosity was eating her from the inside out.

She heard footsteps approaching and James, who usually brought the Book to her, soon appeared.

“Hi!” She said, taking the Book from his hands, “Thank you!”

He smiled at her before running back to his office, surely tired and eager to get back home. That was what Andy should have wanted on a Friday night, but the only thing that could ease her curiosity was in her hands and nobody was around to see her looking through it. Andy looked out the main office doors, hugging the Book tight to her chest, before returning back to her desk, placing the Book delicately on it.

She had to take a look or in the next days she would have been found by Miranda doing the unthinkable, like browsing through her emails to find the unedited pictures.

Andy sighed and opened the Book. She turned each page slowly, not wanting to leave smudges or wrinkles. She found the draft of an edited picture from her shooting and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing: it was a close shot, taking her in from the chest up. The pose was natural: her left hand, showing manicured painted nails, was touching the perfectly combed hair. Her doe eyes focused directly on the viewer, making it seem like they owned her complete attention - even if they betrayed an intriguing annoyance. Her full lips were slightly parted. She looked amazing, like a movie star or a real top model.

Andy laughed in relief and felt a bit hysterical. Had Miranda chose this one? She felt absolutely out of her mind. She must have seen her like that, beautiful and fierce, a breathtaking creature.

She bit her lower lip and looked at the clock, “Fuck!” She exclaimed. She really had to go if she didn’t want to make up excuses to explain to Roy why she had come out of the building fifteen minutes later than James.

She closed the Book and prepared to leave.

Nothing could have ruined her joyful mood.

________

Miranda turned around in her bed for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

She looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand: 2:15 a.m. She huffed softly and looked up at the ceiling.

She couldn’t sleep because every time she closed her eyes, her mind swirled with thoughts regarding a certain brunette and the angry outburst she had a week before. At first she couldn’t understand why she had been so angry. She thought she was annoyed that she hadn’t been notified about the missing model right away, but it certainly hadn’t been the first time Nigel had to solve problems on his own on photo-shootings or away from her. She knew she couldn’t handle everything alone, that Nigel was very capable of doing his job and that, without competent people she could delegate some of her work to, the magazine could never be completed and finalized.

She felt guilty about showing weakness and irrationality.

She pursed her lips. _That damn assistant_ , she thought, _It was her all fault_.

Over the months the girl had been working for her, she had developed a certain kind of respect towards her. She certainly had improved at her job, she got better at predicting her boss’s requests and after the whole unpublished Harry Potter book mess, Miranda had started to see determination, intelligence and beauty in her. But she had never expected to develop... attraction towards the girl.

The first time she had seen the girl wearing Chanel, with her straight hair styled in a stylish fringe, Miranda had felt a pull towards her. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from taking a look at the luscious beauty that had been before her: long legs covered in dark tights, swaying enticing hips, a flirtatious smile dedicated only to her. _God_ , Miranda licked her own lips at the memory. She had even turned around to take a last look.

Was she having a middle age crisis?

She sighed and thought about her lack of a private life. Maybe she just needed to...

She put her hand on her own stomach.

She thought about Stephen and the fact that nearly half a year had passed since the last time they slept together. The memory of his rough hands on her skin and the drunken smell of his breath made her recoil. She knew he was cheating on her because during all those months, he hadn’t searched for her and that could only mean one thing: he had find another outlet for his sexual appetite. She wondered if said outlet was his young secretary, always following him like a puppy. The few times Miranda met her, she thought she was vulgar, with her breasts put nearly on display and the bleached blond hair.

Andrea was definitely better.

She nearly laughed at the absurdity of comparing secretaries and thought that maybe she was hitting rock bottom. But she knew she was right: Andrea was better. She was efficient, competent and cunning, with doe-eyes and legs of a goddess. Her natural beauty could easily win in a comparison against some of her models. She was going to put her pictures on her precious magazine, that was proof enough of her magnetic beauty.

Miranda closed her eyes and her mind supplied the vision of a picture from Andrea’s photoshoot. The girl was laying down on the grass, looking at the camera with her dark eyes accentuated by an even darker eyeliner. Her lips were slightly parted. Her expression betrayed innocence, highlighted by the small colorful flowers surrounding her. The camel colored jacket revealed a white clean shoulder, a collarbone, and dipped down covering her breasts.

Miranda sighed and traced with her fingers an invisible line towards the hem of her wine red satin negligee. She reached under her panties to rub her clit. She imagined kissing Andrea’s full luscious lips, sliding her tongue against the girl’s and sucking on her lower lip. She imagined pulling her hair to show her long neck, leaving a trail of small kisses, biting down on her skin, on the shoulder, on a breast.

She moaned quietly enough to not be heard.

She thought about Andrea touching her breast, making her moan, rubbing her nipple with her long fingers. She kept rubbing her own clit, pushing a finger inside herself, imagining the girl between her legs, kissing and biting a thigh, never breaking eye contact. She imagined Andrea licking her own lips before moving closer to her, taking her time before sucking on her clit. And just like that, Miranda came, nearly shouting her assistant’s name.

She never came that fast before.

Closing her legs, she felt herself relax, suddenly tired. She turned around, covering herself with the linen covers and as she slowly fell asleep only one thought occupied her mind: Andrea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the mistakes! the song at the beginning of the chapter is Ivy by Taylor Swift.
> 
> the story was inspired by the prompt i found in the following post: https://trickormemes.tumblr.com/post/186792041855/cotton-candy-fluff-writing-prompts-pt-48-send
> 
> thank you for reading and leave a comment or kudos if you'd like!
> 
> tumblr: wjldsage.tumblr.com


	2. Breakable Heaven

_And I snuck in through the garden gate_

_Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)_

_And I screamed for whatever it's worth_

_"I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?_

Andy huffed, letting her own purse fall ungracefully on her office chair.

During her lunch-break, Miranda had called her about a stock of Miu Miu shoes that had to be picked up as soon as possible, since they were needed that afternoon for the fitting rehearsal. Andy had been really annoyed by Miranda’s timing: she had had to throw away her food and while Elias Clarke’s cafeteria wasn’t known for its delicious dishes, Andy had been really craving for one of their unseasoned salads - or anything really - to fill her stomach and to give her the energies she needed to survive another day. She couldn’t run on adrenaline alone.

She sighed, bringing the bags of shoe boxes in Miranda’s office, placing them next to the accessories brought in earlier by Emily. Looking at some of the clothes on the racks, Andy wondered if Miranda would have been satisfied that afternoon with all their work. She had heard rumors about another one of Jocelyne’s fucks up. Andy felt sorry for her: if the rumors were true, that would have been her third mistake in such a short period of time. Her time was getting closer.

She finished the preparations needed for the fitting: she put Miranda’s hot coffee on its usual place on the desk and she placed some urgent documents, that Miranda needed to check and sign, next to her computer. As she was fixing their position, the unthinkable happened: Andy brushed her hand against Miranda’s mouse.

The touch had been quick and unexpected. It would have meant nothing, Andy wouldn’t even have registered it, if the computer screen hadn’t lit up showing to Andy her own face and pictures, in which she was playfully blowing dandelion seeds at the camera.

Andy’s mouth fell open on its own accord.

One or two weeks before, the pictures wouldn’t have caught Andy’s attention. Well, maybe a little bit, but in a totally different way. She would have felt surprise, even embarrassment at being on her boss’s computer screen while she was away, but she would have understood the reason. Studying pictures and their details, choosing the most appropriate ones for the magazine and highlighting the imperfections to correct them was Miranda’s job. It would have been perfectly normal for her to have those pictures on her computer.

But the November issue that featured Andy had been already approved for printing.

She panicked.

She knew about the approval because _she_ had been the one in charge of contacting the printing branch about it. She had given it three days before then.

Why on Earth was she on Miranda’s computer screen then?

Maybe Miranda was one of those perfectionists that need to check their work constantly, even after the date of the deadline or their completion, but that would betray insecurity and it didn’t fit Miranda. Moreover, it would be a complete waste of time and Miranda _hated_ wasting her time.

She heard sounds on the other side of the door, so she clicked the right buttons to put on the screensaver again. She didn’t want to be found out, nor she wanted to confront Miranda on the matter immediately, in front of their own colleagues. Moreover, she needed to analyze things over, not wanting to make a fool of herself because of her instincts again.

She straightened, giving a smile to Nigel. As she exited Miranda’s office, she could only feel breathless and slightly hysterical.

_______

Andy bit her lips nervously as she stared out the window of the moving car. Questions were swirling into her mind about what she had seen the day before.

Miranda sat next to her on the leather seats and it was driving Andy completely crazy.

They were going to another one of the private fashion shows that Miranda liked to attend. Was it Tom Ford? Or a new stylist Andy had yet to remember the name?

She sighed. She couldn’t care less at the moment. She had the only person who could answer to all the questions swirling in her mind right next to her, but she wasn’t allowed to ask them. And even if she was, how could she ask something like that?

During the fitting rehearsal, she had found herself staring at Miranda more than once, nearly forgetting about taking notes. The fitting had gone on smoother than usual, with Jocelyne’s mistakes fixed by Nigel at last minute. Her own movements had felt mechanical: she had gone through the day spontaneously, not really understanding what she had been doing, her mind focused elsewhere.

At home, she had set at the table longer than usual, playing with the remains of the chinese food she had picked up on the way home. She had tried to find plausible and rational explanations about that whole mess. She had felt like she was missing something, like she was going to make a fool of herself by mentioning something to Miranda. Although she hadn’t really decided on it yet, she had known at the time that she would have questioned Miranda about it in the worst of ways or moments.

She had tried not to think about the possibility she most desired for: Miranda being attracted to her. And she certainly had tried to avoid thinking about the possible implications. What if Miranda made a move on her one day? What would Andy do? Had she done it with any of her other assistants? Was Andy just going completely crazy?

“Oh, please, stop it!” Miranda said, interrupting her thoughts. She was touching her forehead with one of her gloved hands.

“W-what?”

“I can hear your mind working just by sitting next to you.” Miranda hissed.

“I am sorry?” Andy tried, confusedly.

Andy saw Miranda throwing her a disapproving look as she leaned back against the car seats, trying to relax.

Andy picked at her nails for awhile, trying to keep quiet. It was obvious that it was a bad timing: Roy was there with them at a close hear-shot, Miranda looked like she was fighting against a headache and Andy was too angsty and emotional to talk to Miranda about such a sensitive situation.

She tried to keep quiet, but she couldn’t, not now that Miranda had noticed her discomfort and had made her talk.

She turned around on the leather seats, facing Miranda, who rolled her eyes as soon as she understood that Andy needed to talk to her.

“Whatever you need to ask, be quick and clear.” Miranda said.

Andy was a bit taken aback by her reply, she would have never expected her to be so easily convinced to a... business talk? Or a private one. Whatever. Andy didn’t dwell on it: now that she had the chance to ask her questions, she didn’t plan on keeping silent.

She didn’t exactly planned to ask the most silly and less transparent question of all, though.

“Why were you so angry?” she asked, “When you learnt about the photoshoot and, well, me posing for it.”

Miranda lowered her hand from her own face, never turning around to face Andy, “I have already told you or have you forgotten about it?”

Andy didn’t let her boss take advantage of her authority and position. Gathering her courage, she said, “I don’t think you’ve told the whole truth, Miranda.”

Andy didn’t know where that came from, but she certainly couldn’t take back her words. She pursed her lips and faced Miranda with a determined expression. She was following her own instincts once again and she hoped they would turn out right.

“What did you just say?” Miranda turned towards her, a disbelieving look on her face.

“I said that I don’t think that you’ve told the whole truth.”

“How dare you?!” Miranda hissed, but before she could threaten her in any way, Andy started talking again.

“I’ve seen my pictures on your computer. The issue is already being printed.”

Miranda straightened, looking at her with clenched teeth. Andy knew that these kind of accusations were dangerous, especially for a person who held such power like Miranda. She tried to be as silent as possible, not to let Roy hear, but the anger at being lied to was growing stronger.

“Roy,” Miranda called, “close the partition.” She said, not breaking eye contact with Andy.

She felt trapped. _What?_ She thought, watching as it closed. She felt like a death sentence was just declared on her.

“Do you think that this is a normal conversation to have in the car with people listening?” Miranda asked, “You couldn’t have waited, could you?”

Andy tried to keep herself still, determination shown on her face.

Miranda pursed her lips. Startling Andy, she leaned closer, grabbing her chin between her finger, making breaking eye-contact impossible for her assistant.

“You want to know why?” She said in her quiet velvety voice, close to a whisper. Anger hadn’t completely disappeared from her voice, but it had been mostly replaced by something else, something more... desperate, “because _no one else_ touches _my_ assistants,” she declared, “not people from the make-up department, not stylists, not Nigel and certainly not sleazy photographers hiding who knows how many sexual harassment NDAs.”

Andy felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Being at such a close vicinity with Miranda made her feel breathless and foolish. She could feel her hot breath on her cheek and her perfume was intoxicating to her senses. She nearly didn’t catch the meaning of Miranda’s words, but once she let her go, as her heartbeat slowed down and as she regained mental clarity, she felt like an owned property.

Looking at her boss, Andy knew she wasn’t the only one who had been shaken by the proximity they had just shared. Andy understood now that the option she had been most desiring and fearing was the most accurate one: Miranda was attracted to her. She didn’t know what to do, she wasn’t even sure how she felt about it.

She looked away from Miranda, feeling watched. She fixed her coat with trembling hands and let the silence fill the space between them: she needed to think and Miranda didn’t seem eager to elaborate on the matter. A more foolish Andy - as if she wasn’t enough already - would have pushed on, saying that that didn’t explain why she had found her own picture on her boss’s computer screen, that it wasn’t enough and that Miranda had to be honest with herself and Andy.

But the shock had been too great and Andy had a feeling that other occasions would present themselves.

_______

Andy walked up the stairs of the townhouse entrance with confidence and determination. The hour spent waiting for the Book had been fruitful.

She had pondered about her options, as she felt that it was up to her making the next move.

Option number one: she could go on with her work, act as if nothing happened and conclude her one year contract at Runway, hoping Miranda would not stab her in the back for not acting on it. Andy knew Miranda would never do such a thing: as much as everyone liked to consider her a bitch, she wasn’t slimy or creepy. Andy knew that was the safest option, the one they both would have learnt to accept.

But it felt like a wasted occasion already, a regret even.

She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt towards Miranda. She didn’t know exactly when it begun, it must have crept on her when she wasn’t noticing, like weeds slowly taking over a previously trimmed garden. She remembered observing the small but fierce figure of Miranda calmly putting a presumptuous lawyer in his place and feeling a warm and tingling feeling in her chest making her smile; she remembered looking at her tights-covered calves or elegant slim hands and fingers and feeling hot. Once she had smelt her perfume in a restaurant while she was having dinner with her parents. She remembered she had stopped listening to them, searching through the crowd for Miranda’s figure, excitement making her angsty.

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she opened the door to the townhouse. Here she was, doing the unthinkable: following option number two. It was the most reckless and dangerous one, like jumping off a cliff, diving into the ocean separating her from the most luscious and rich of prizes.

She advanced steadily, surpassing the closet and the table with the flowers, walking right into Miranda’s study, announced. She stopped right after the entrance and noticed Miranda sitting on the sofa, her legs propped up on the couch, busy with reading documents. She didn’t even seem surprised when she lifted her head, noticing Andy.

She extended a hand towards her, suggesting Andy to give her the Book. Andy didn’t comply, hugging it tightly to her chest. She got closer and stopped in front of her boss.

“Yes?” Miranda questioned, waiting impatiently.

“You said that no one else is allowed to touch your assistants.” She stated, matter-of-factly.

Miranda lowered her hand, understanding the change of subject. Her look hardened as she nodded slightly, “Yes.”

“It implies that you can.”

Andy expected rejection, a shout, anything really. Instead, she watched as Miranda, after a moment of silence, brought a delicate finger to her own chin, pressing her knuckle to the bottom of her lower lip.

She slightly inclined her head to the side and with a challenging look, she asked: “Would you want to?”

_To feel my touch, to feel owned by me._ That went without saying.

Andy replied, warm and excited, “Yes.”

Miranda kept looking at her for some instants. A pleased smiled appeared on her lips, “Very well,” she said as she extended the hand, “Now, the Book.”

Andy felt disappointed. She complied, giving Miranda the Book and feeling at a loss.

She waited for Miranda to say anything, to do anything. But as the seconds passed by, it became clear that nothing would have happened, that Miranda would have been unpredictable even in that context.

She shuffled on her feet, before walking out the study, the townhouse, advancing rapidly towards the car. As Roy started the engine, only one thought kept Andy’s mind busy: _What have I done?_

____________

And so, it begun.

The first time Miranda had touched her, she had been sitting in front of her at the other side of Miranda’s desk. She had been writing on her notepad some instructions about the dinner placements of the guests at a Runway event - a charity gala that celebrities use to show off, not really caring about the cause they should supporting - when she had felt it.

Under the desk, Miranda had took off one of her Prada stilettos. She had brushed the top of her foot against Andy’s calf, slowly moving it down towards her ankle. Andy had shuddered, feeling warm.

They hadn’t really been touching skin on skin, due to the tights they were both wearing. But that hadn’t matter to Andy. The touch had been so sensual and slow, she had felt goosebumps all over her body.

“Andrea...” Miranda had called for attention, breaking Andy’s stupor. She had been watching her calmly, as if nothing had been happening. Andy had realized that Miranda was reminding her to keep her composure. She had closed her slightly parted lips and straightened, focusing her attention on the touch, taking the instructions Miranda was listing to her mechanically.

Miranda touched her a lot after that first time: a soft brush against the back of her leg, from the edge of her skirt down to the one of the boot; intertwining hands and fingers as they rode around the city, both looking out the car windows pretending they weren’t affected by the other; Miranda’s hand on the small of her back as they talked to a designer or a photographer that they visited, Miranda settling her mark on Andy for everybody to see; brushing fingers as they took documents or accessories or clothes from the other.

But they weren’t Andy’s favorite touches.

In public, Miranda always tried to keep things on the low, not wanting to be seen nor creating a scandal. She only tried to stake her claim by reminding others that they couldn’t touch or hurt what was hers, even if it was hers professionally speaking. Her touches were always at the edge of appropriate, soft and not rough nor marking.

But when they were alone, _that_ was the most fun.

Andy loved feeling Miranda’s touches as she played with her hair behind the close doors of an elevator, as she caressed her neck or grabbed her hip roughly under a jacket. She loved when they were in her study, Miranda sneaking a hand under her skirt, grabbing her ass or bringing her closer just to sneak her other hand under her shirt. She loved feeling her nails gently scratch against the skin on her back or from her chin down the throat towards her breasts.

They never had sex. Their arrangement was just something really hot and really close to it, but Miranda never touched her anywhere Andy didn’t consent. Not that Andy would necessary refuse to have sex with Miranda - she wanted _more_ \- but she never tried to touch her vagina or her nipples.

Once, after Miranda had brought her closer, embracing her in what could have looked like a hug - if it weren’t for Miranda sneaking her hand down the back of her skirt - Andy had asked, “Can I touch you too?”

Miranda had stopped, leaning back to look Andy straight in her eyes, “No,” she had said, authoritative. She had brushed her thumb against Andy’s bottom lip before leaning fully back against the couch, lifting the Book and opening it.

Andy had never asked again.

Nearly a month after their arrangement had begun, Andy was putting the cleaned clothes in the closet next to entrance, excited about reaching Miranda, wanting to feel her touch, when she felt the door of the closet closing. She spun around and she found Miranda leaning with a hand against the doorframe. She looked eager and, if Andy had to be honest, a bit sad.

Andy smiled, “Hi.”

Miranda inclined her head slightly, before approaching her with a slow and sensual walk. She looked like a big cat approaching her prey. She reached for Andy’s shirt collar and fixed it, letting the knuckle of her thumb brush slowly against Andy’s skin.

“Stephen has filed for divorce,” she confessed, looking at Andy in the eyes for the first time that night. She looked sad, her eyes glistening with tears.

Andy couldn’t understand why: she was kind of cheating on him, right? Things between them must have been critical for awhile now. She hadn’t been scheduling dinners just between the two of them for longer than they had begun the touching or whatever the hell they were doing.

Andy’s mind offered just a possible explanation: had he found out about them?

Miranda rubbed a circle against the skin of Andy’s neck with her thumb, her expression was softer than before as if she wanted to sooth her worry and reassure her that they were fine.

Andy didn’t know when they got to know each other so well to be able to predict the other’s thoughts and need, but she liked it.

“I’m worried about my girls,” she said, her voice trembling, “I don’t want them to suffer again through another divorce and to hear cruel things from the press.”

Andy watched as Miranda dropped her hand from her shoulder, looking up to keep the tears from falling.

Andy desperately wanted to touch her, to console her and reassure her that she would have never left her, that she would have always stayed at her side.

So she did the only thing she could think of that didn’t involve her initiating touch or making silly abstract promises she wasn’t sure she could keep: she tried to ground Miranda.

“You know,” she begun, softly, getting slightly closer to Miranda without touching, “As much as I love your hands, touching can happen through other things.”

Miranda looked at her, surprise and curiosity shining in her eyes. Andy didn’t know what Miranda would have done with her offer, but seeing her focusing on something other than sadness - specifically focusing on her lips - made her feel better. She truly wanted to make her happy even through slight touches and a grounding presence.

Miranda lifted her hand again to caress Andy’s cheek. She watched as Miranda closed her eyes, rubbing soft circles against Andy’s skin. Their foreheads touched for a moment and Andy sighed happily. She felt something was changing between them.

Suddenly, Miranda pressed her lips gently against Andy’s. At first, it was tentative and gentle, the movement slow and chaste. Andy whimpered.

Miranda licked slowly Andy’s bottom lip, her hands grabbing her hips roughly. The kiss turned hot and sensual, with their tongues sliding against each other. Miranda pulled Andy closer by her hips causing their bodies to touch and press against each other. Andy moaned, grabbing Miranda’s shirt, wrinkling it.

Andy felt Miranda smile before she sucked on her bottom lip. As she leaned back, breaking the kiss and the contact, Miranda was still smiling, pleased.

“Goodnight, Andrea,” She said, brushing a strand of Andy’s hair behind her ear, before turning around leaving a horny and dumbstruck Andy alone.

____________

After their first kiss, things heated up a little. Miranda begun chasing for her mouth during their encounters, kissing, sucking and biting her lips. Andy understood now that she could touch her when they were together, she just wasn’t allowed to initiate the touching and she didn’t understand why yet.

They kissed in elevators, in the closet and in her study. Once, Miranda had even reached to kiss her in the office. It was an evening, the editor had just returned from a long and exhausting meeting with Ravitz and the other members of Elias Clarke’s board. She had huffed and complained to Andy about tasteless middle aged men who wanted to tell her how to do her job without even knowing what they were talking about. Andy had joked about men being insufferable in general as she offered Miranda her deep blue coat. Miranda had looked at Andy with a soft expression and had leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on her lips.

“Sleep well, Andrea.” She had said, smiling, before walking out the office.

It had felt so domestic and real.

Miranda’s kisses weren’t only focusing on her lips, though. With time, Andy found out that Miranda liked to kiss her jaw, to bite her neck and to lick her throat. Andy was having the time of her life, living a breakable heaven with one of the most powerful and dangerous women of New York City. It was clear, now, there were no doubts: she was having an affair. Sneaking through the door of the townhouse just to steal the touch of her lover, hiding from the world and the press a sapphic relationship with her boss… it was like living in a movie.

But what Andy felt during those moments was more real than anything else she had ever felt before. Miranda’s touch was a miracle, it couldn’t even being compared to the touches of her ex-boyfriends. Miranda could lit her up with a touch, could make her feel wanted with a look. She could feel herself falling for that woman and she was terrified of it - just not enough to make her stop the whole affair.

She was drowning and she feared she was the only one slowly getting closer to tragedy.

Her mind swirling as she snuck in through the townhouse’s door, she desperately needed her favorite drug to anchor herself and she found her leaning on the desk of her study.

“Here you are.” Miranda said, smiling softly at her.

“Miranda.” She said, before being embraced in those arms she longed for every day.

“Mhh...” Miranda whispered, “What are we planning for tonight?”

They found themselves on the couch, Andy straddling Miranda’s thighs. They kissed passionately, as the older woman grabbed Andy’s hips to bring her closer. As Miranda sucked on her lip, Andy moaned and scratched lightly with her nails the back of Miranda’s neck.

“More,” Andy sighed, pushing down against Miranda.

“More?” She asked, their foreheads touching.

“Yes,” Andy said, between kisses, “please.”

They kissed roughly once more, before Miranda broke the kiss, leaning back to get a look of a breathless Andy. She smiled wickedly, before starting to undress Andy, opening her shirt slowly, one button at the time.

“Faster.”

“No,” Miranda said, shaking her head. She didn’t break eye contact with Andy, taking in every reaction from her.

Once the shirt was opened, she caressed Andy’s stomach, her hand trailing downwards. She opened her jeans and as Andy bit her own bottom lip, she silently asked for approval. Andy nodded, her heart beating fast against her ribcage, waiting for what she had been imagining alone, in her own bed, at night. Miranda reached into her panties and Andy moaned, causing Miranda to kiss her roughly again to keep her quiet. She rubbed at her clit, leaving a trail of kisses from Andy’s lips down to her neck and collarbone. She bit and sucked on it as Andy grabbed her hair gently, slightly pulling.

“Miranda,” she whispered, ecstasy clouding her senses.

“Come,” Miranda replied, as she moved two fingers inside her, “Come for me.”

Andy arched her back as she felt the orgasm coming over. The thought of having Miranda’s fingers inside her made her feel whole, heavenly. She moaned, gripping Miranda’s hair a bit too tight as she came on her fingers. Andy heard Miranda whisper to her soothingly. 

She let her head fall, putting her forehead against Miranda’s shoulder. 

As Miranda wrapped her arms around her, pulling her closer, Andy knew that something had radically changed between them and that they both were into it too deeply: it would have been impossible, for the both of them, to leave without hurting the other and themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for my lack of imagination regarding titles and tropes. hope you like this chapter!
> 
> the song at the beginning of the chapter is Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. 
> 
> leave kudos and/or a comment if you'd like <3


	3. Quicksand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to post the edited version. hope it works now <3

_And I'll do anything you say_

_If you say it with your hands_

_And I'd be smart to walk away_

_But you're quicksand_

_“Should I bring wine?”_

“Mh, yes. I only have some left for cooking,” Andy replied, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she put away some of the groceries she had picked up after work, “I’m glad you’re coming over tomorrow, Lily.”

_“Me too, we have to update each other, uh?”_

Andy knew that Lily had been angry with her for leaving Nate. Even if the break-up had been mutual, Lily had been shocked by Andy’s behavior: she hadn’t tried to keep him in New York, nor she had even thought of following him. Lily had always regarded their relationship as a sort of fairytale: two people in love growing up together and supporting each other and their dreams. But sometimes life - or a very demanding boss - get in the way.

When Nate had told her about the job offer, she had known that they had been reaching the end of their relationship. She hadn’t loved Nate enough to follow him to Boston, nor he had loved her enough to stay in NYC. She had cried for numerous and long nights, of course, nobody would accept the end of a years long relationship so easily. As the time had passed, though, Andy had realized that she had been crying more for the fear of being left alone than for the end of their relationship.

With time - and a little help from Doug - Lily had learnt to accept that Andy wasn’t a teenager anymore, that her needs had changed since college and that Andy might not love Nate anymore, but it didn’t mean she hated him or resented him.

They were trying to reconnect and get to know each other again. Andy loved Lily, she was her best friend, she didn’t want to lose her.

“Oh yes,” Andy replied, leaning against the counter, “Doug has mentioned a certain french photographer, what was his name? Mark... Matthew...”

_“Matthieu... Doug really can’t keep his mouth shut.”_

“No, he can’t.” Andy laughed softly.

_“I’m sure I’m not the only one with important news...”_ She heard Lily chuckle.

Andy stopped, surprised, “What do you mean?”

_“Well, Doug is a gossip, he told me things too. He said that you’ve come home later than usual lately... That you’ve been smiling more often... complaining less about work,”_ She said jokingly.

“I-“ She sighed, was she really that obvious? “I may have some news too.”

_“How have you met?”_ Lily asked. Andy tried to protest but her friend immediately interrupted her, _“You know the name of my guy, I should know something about your guy too.”_

Andy bit her lips, “Okay, we met at work.”

_“At work? Aren’t all guys working at Runway gay?”_

“Maybe I’m not talking about a guy,” Andy suggested, not even trying to correct the wrong assumption, just to mentally slap herself. What the fuck? She really hated herself sometimes.

_“What?!”_ She heard Lily exclaim at the other end of the line, _“Andy, you can’t drop a bomb on me like that! Are you seeing a woman? Are you gay?”_

“I think I’m bi,” She heard the other woman gasp, “I mean, I still have to think things over, but yes, I’m seeing a woman.”

_“Is she a model?”_ Lily asked, excited.

“Lily!”

_“Is she Giselle Bundchen? I always thought she has kind of a... lesbian vibe.”_

“You’re unbelievable,” Andy said laughing, “I’m not seeing a model.”

_“You could afford a model.”_

“I’m not seeing a model!” Andy pushed herself off the counter, “I’m not telling you anything else, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

_“I still haven’t got a name.”_

Andy laughed again and opened the fridge, “You won’t get a name.”

_“Then you’ll have to tell me something more!”_

Andy bit her lips. She wondered what she could tell Lily, if Miranda had told someone about her. She guessed no, since, well, she was in the middle of a divorce worth million dollars - but most importantly worth the custody of her children.

“She is married.”

_“Andy!“_

“To be honest, she is getting divorced.” Andy confessed.

_“God, Andy,”_ Lily said, sighing, _“You’ve really changed.”_

“Is it a bad thing?”

_“I guess not.”_ Andy could imagine Lily smiling gently as she spoke. She really hoped things could work again between the two of them, the thought of thinking of Lily as a stranger made her sick.

She sighed, “I’m gonna go now, Lily. It’s 10 pm and I still have to eat. See you tomorrow!”

_“See you tomorrow, Andy! Sleep well and... dream of your woman.”_

Andy chuckled, before ending the call. She wondered is she had to make up a story to tell Lily or to follow her heart and tell her the truth.

_________

There was a knock at the door. Andy rushed to open it.

“One moment, please!”

The knocking against the door continued insistently. Andy huffed, pulling the sweater down to cover herself. She knew it was Lily, a little earlier than usual. She found her insistence irritating nonetheless.

She opened the door, saying, “I was taking a shower!”

Lily stormed into the room: she looked furious. She threw her bag onto the closest chair and begun rummaging through it.

“Hello!” Andy exclaimed, annoyance seeping through her voice, “You’re early.”

“Is this the married, soon-to-be-divorced woman you’re seeing?” She asked, throwing something on the table next to them.

It was one of those gossip magazines with flashy colors and giant appealing titles. It read: _The Dragon Lady strikes again! Everything about the most talked divorce of the fashion industry!_

Andy opened it, searching for the article.

_La Priestly collects divorces like a dragon collects shiny gold coins! Here’s what she put in her lair: Stephen Tomlinson, lawyer, good man, known for his capability in court (and for his ability to seep through liquor like a russian miner). They tied the knot three years ago. This is The Ice Queen’s shortest marriage: is she getting colder and more insufferable as the clock ticks?_

Andy couldn’t bear to finish the article, it was revolting. She lifted her head to look at Lily. She looked furious, nearly disappointed with her.

“Lily...”

“Is she the woman you’re sleeping with, Andy?” Lily asked with a stern look.

Andy sighed and looked away, unable to witness her friend’s reaction, “Yes,” she admitted quietly.

“Dear God, Andy! Do you know what you got yourself into?” She said, waving her arms confusedly, “She is getting divorced! We are talking about one of the most powerful women in New York! Journalists are following her _everywhere_ , what if they find out about you two? What if she looses custody of her children because of you? Do you want to be known as the new Monica Lewinsky? Andy!”

“There’s no need to shout,” Andy said, sternly, tired of being treated like a child, “I know what I got myself into. First of all, I am not the reason Miranda is getting divorced for: Stephen has been cheating on her for months. Miranda isn’t foolishly in love with me, neither she wants to lose her children because of me, so don’t point your finger at me, accusing of messing with families. Second of all,” she felt a bit breathless, not used at shouting, “We are being really cautious: we rarely touch at work and we only meet at her house when I’m supposed to be there for work. Nobody suspects anything.”

Lily clenched her jaw, “How can you be certain? Doug understood something was going on just by your dreamy attitude.”

“Doug has been my best friend since high school, he knows me better than anyone else. And everyone at Runway believes that Miranda hates me. I’m not worried.”

Lily visibly relaxed her shoulders. She was still upset, but she looked calmer, more rational.

“Let’s say that I believe you, should I trust that woman?” She asked, “She goes through people, she uses them for her own gain, just to fire them or abandon them as soon as they become useless. Are you sure you aren’t being used, Andy?"

Andy wasn’t sure. She knew Miranda appreciated her, that she was attracted to her, but she still had doubts about where they were going with their relationship, if they were something more than just sex. Andy didn’t want to lie to Lily, so she told her what she really felt.

“I don’t know if I’m the object of an obsession due to a middle aged crises. I don’t know if she will grow tired of me one day and she will leave me for a rich man who could help her with her career. What I know is that she wants me now and that she makes me happy,” she confessed, her voice trembling, “I’m really happy for the first time since I set foot in New York. I have a job I’m capable at and my colleagues finally respect me. I have my friends with me and I don’t feel obliged to be in a relationship for old time’s sake anymore. She may not love me, but she makes me feel desired and capable and it is what I need right now.”

“You’ll end up hurting,” Lily told her, her expression softer.

“Maybe, but isn’t that the risk of every single goddamn relationship?” Andy asked, crossing her arms and feeling a bit shaken up.

“Andy...” Lily hugged her tight as tears fell down Andy’s cheeks.

She knew that Miranda was complicated and that what they were doing was a complete and utter mess. But it all felt _so_ good.

She whimpered against Lily’s shoulder as she realized that she loved Miranda: she had never felt more terrified.

“You need to set a limit,” she said softly, “You need to plan things out to limit the damages.”

Andy knew what she meant: she needed to talk to Miranda to understand where they were going. Most importantly, she needed to start searching for a new job to avoid depending on her completely, locked and fucked. If it ended badly, she didn’t want to find herself planning Miranda’s dinners with her new lover, watching them as they danced together at galas or longing for her as she quietly fell down a hole of despair. Andy didn’t think Miranda was that cruel, nor she believed she was detached from her emotions as Lily thought, but she couldn’t take more risks than she already was.

Andy disentangled from the hug, “I will.”

Lily smiled at her softly, “Good.” She said, as if she just won a card game or something. She knew that Lily didn’t trust Miranda. Andy hoped she somehow trusted her again.

“Now, let’s get cooking! I found a new recipe some days ago...”

Andy looked at the magazine again, letting Lily go to the kitchen, barely listening to her ramblings. Miranda’s life was complicated and she didn’t even know if she had a place in it.

She sighed as she decided that she didn’t have to stress about such an important thing that night - and without some good old alcohol in her.

__________

Miranda kissed her, sliding her tongue against Andy’s bottom lip, who could taste herself on the other woman’s tongue. It made her lose her mind a little.

They were lying on the couch in Miranda’s study - it was more spacious than Andy had initially thought - the editor between Andy’s legs. She felt satisfied and her mind was a little cloudy at the feeling of Miranda kissing and biting her all over.

“Dear God, Andrea,” Miranda said breathlessly, “You feel like a breath of fresh air.”

Andy chuckled as Miranda kissed her cheek, “Is that all you got?”

The older woman looked at her with a small wicked smile on her lips, “Mh, do you want me to declare poetry about you, dear?”

Andy smiled, surprised. She blushed at the use of the intimate nickname, she had never heard Miranda call someone like that. It was strange, but good, like walking into a new unexplored territory, “I just love hearing you talk about how much my presence affects you.”

“Do you?” Miranda asked teasingly, “Maybe I should let you know more often.”

“I would appreciate it,” Andy grinned, “Or you could let me touch you.”

Andy didn’t want to upset Miranda, but she wanted to know why she couldn’t touch her yet, it was driving her crazy. Over the last weekend she had thought about Lily’s words and she felt she needed reassurance from Miranda. She had been longing to touch and kiss her freely, to make love to her as passionately as Miranda did to her. Her mind had begun to overthink everything and she had realized that she should have at least tried to get something so small from Miranda - a touch - compared to everything else they had been doing.

Miranda surprisingly didn’t look upset or angry, just a bit... indecisive - Miranda was never indecisive. Andy observed as she looked down at their intertwined bodies and then up, straight at her. She looked defeated.

“It’s just that... You have to understand-“

“Mom!”

They both froze at hearing Cassidy’s voice. Andy cursed in her mind while Miranda straightened to a sitting position.

“Yes, Bobbsey?” She asked, turned around towards the closed and locked door. As Andy stayed silent and unmoving in her place on the couch, she noticed Miranda wasn’t shouting: her voice loud enough to be heard, but not vulgar.

“Caroline isn’t feeling well.”

Miranda sighed and, after a moment, she begun fixing her own clothes, “Stay with her, I’m coming over in a second.”

They kept silent for some seconds more, hearing Cassidy running up the stairs towards her bedroom.

As soon as she could, Miranda turned around to face Andy with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry.” She said.

“Don’t worry. I hope it isn’t anything serious.”

“Oh, it is,” She said, fixing the hem of her trousers, “It’s another case of maths-test fever.”

Andy chuckled, “Well, they’re cunning.”

“They are,” She said, smiling softly, “Cassidy loves maths, that’s why she doesn’t have any sudden case of measles,” she rolled her eyes, “Caroline is an aspiring novelist, but she utterly hates numbers.”

As Miranda talked, Andy sat up. She loved hearing love and affection seep through Miranda’s voice as she talked about her children. Her expression always softened and she felt more real, less unreachable.

“What?” Miranda asked teasingly, curious about her look.

“I just love hearing you talk about the girls.”

“I’m starting to think you just love hearing me talk, in general.” She said, approaching Andy.

_I just love you._ Andy wanted to say, but she couldn’t dare - although she hoped to tell her, one day. She was being devoured by the love she felt for Miranda and she wondered how the other woman hadn’t understood the nature of her affection yet.

She watched as Miranda inclined her head to the side, waiting for her reply.

“Maybe,” she said.

She let Miranda leave a kiss of goodnight on her lips. They smiled at each other for a small moment.

“See you tomorrow, Andrea.”

Andy bit her lip, watching her go. She was disappointed by the interruption. Before she could disappear behind the door, though, Miranda turned around searching again for Andy’s attention.

“We’ll talk,” she said, “I promise.”

Andy felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled and nodded to reassure Miranda that everything was okay. As she went home, Andy dared to hope of a different kind of future.

_________

Andy’s dreams were shattered very soon. The next day to be precise.

She got back from her lunch-break earlier than usual. Emily was already out and about, probably fulfilling some weird request from Miranda. As she got into the office quietly, she heard Nigel and Miranda arguing.

“Stop it, Nigel!” Miranda said sternly.

“I know you, Miranda, there’s something going on between you and Six.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She heard the older woman exclaim, upset and nervous.

Andy didn’t want to be seen, so she run to the kitchenette, hiding.

“Would it really be that ridiculous?” There was a pause. Andy wondered what Nigel meant, “We both know about your history and your preferences.”

“What would it mean? That since I’m a damn repressed lesbian, it would only be logical for me to prey on my young assistant?!” Miranda said angrily.

_What?_ Andy thought, _She is a lesbian?_

“That’s not what I meant. You deserve to be happy, Miranda.”

Silence filled the space for some moments and Andy leaned against the green wall behind her.

That didn’t make sense at all. Miranda had children, she had been married three times. Maybe she had realized later than her first marriage. To be honest, it would logically explain why her marriages kept ending so harshly and rapidly - Andy had always wondered how someone could leave an amazing creature like Miranda - but she couldn’t understand why she kept trying. Was she in denial? It would explain a lot of things, like her fear of being touched by Andy, but she just admitted it.

She didn’t think Miranda needed those men for her career. They could certainly be a good cover, but what about the suffering she put her children through during the divorces? She couldn’t see Miranda hurting her children for her own gain.

She wondered if it was all for PR stunts. Maybe she had been convinced that being married could establish her career and shut every rumor about her sexuality, although Andy had heard nothing about it.

She sighed, it was all more complicated than she thought.

“Thank you, Nigel, for reminding me,” her voice sounded strained, “but if I was searching for happiness, I wouldn’t certainly do it with my assistant.”

Andy felt a pang of hurt in her chest. _What?_

“You’re just being cruel.”

“No, I am not. She is naive, presumptuous and half my age. She crossed the line numerous times and she stomped her feet down like an annoying child when she started working here. Do you think I would let her near my children? Do you think she could handle the questions and cruelties from the press? No. I’m not getting into this with a girl.”

“We both know that you don’t believe-“

“That is all, Nigel.”

Andy felt her eyes burn with tears. She couldn’t believe what she just heard. She covered her mouth with a hand to keep herself from whimpering.

Had Miranda used her all this time? Lily had been right. She had been using her for sex, incapable of feeling anything but satisfaction for her own desires and needs. She wished she could find a more rational explanation, but there wasn’t one.

Anger clouded her judgement and after a moment she stormed outside the room. She got to her desk and gathered her purse, determined to get out of that building as faster as she could and walked rapidly away towards the elevator.

She didn’t hear Miranda call her name.

_________

That night Andy was woken up by knocking on her front door. She lifted her head, confusedly. She wondered who could it be and her mind offered only one reply. If it hadn’t been impossible, Andy would have walked to the door angrily, ready to confront the editor.

She burrowed her head under the pillows and whimpered. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment.

The knocking continued, “Andrea” she heard coming from the other side of the door.

Andy froze. Was that really Miranda? She lifted her head and looked towards the door again.

Was that woman really that insane to come to her house?

She wiped her tears from her eyes and walked quietly to the door. She looked through the peephole and she saw her there, standing in the hallway with a worried look on her face. Her heart lost a beat at the thought of being responsible for Miranda’s suffering, even if she really wasn’t.

Miranda knocked again, “Andrea.”

Andrea opened the door.

They stood there in silence for a moment. Miranda looked surprised that Andy had opened the door so easily. What was she supposed to do? Let her stand there for hours? She wasn’t petty and she certainly didn’t want this hurt to stretch out longer: the sooner Miranda dismissed her and their relationship the sooner she could heal and get over her.

“How do you know where I live?” She asked.

“Roy brings you home every night, doesn’t he?”

Andy pursed her lips disapprovingly. She knew that Roy would never betray her trust. Moreover he wasn’t allowed to share such a personal and private information.

Miranda looked to the side, caught, “I asked Emily to find it.”

They stood there for a moment longer. Miranda looked uncomfortable.

“Can I come in?” She asked, softly, “please.”

Andy let her inside, taking in her elegant movements. She was subtly looking around and Andy felt embarrassed: what could a rich woman like Miranda think of such a little and messy apartment? They were so different.

“What are you doing here, Miranda?” Andy asked, letting her voice show annoyance.

“I-“ She begun, looking at anywhere but Andy. She took a deep breath as if to find the courage to speak, a slight blush colored her cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

Andy was taken aback by Miranda’s words. Was she really apologizing?

“I know that I’ve been kind of a... bitch, earlier.” She said, looking to the side and slightly shrugging her shoulders, “I didn’t want Nigel to know about the nature of our relationship. I think I haven’t even succeeded in throwing him off, he looked more sure about his suspicions than before.”

Andy didn’t dare to speak. She wanted a real heartfelt apologize from Miranda, not mere excuses.

Miranda looked uncomfortable, “And all that I’ve accomplished with my little speech has been hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you, Andrea. And I don’t really believe all those things I’ve said.”

“How could I believe you?” Andrea asked, angrily, “In these past months, I felt like I’ve been meeting with two different Mirandas: the one at work, demanding and cruel, and the one at home, loving and kind. Why should I believe you?”

“I’m sorry,” Miranda’s voice trembled, “My life is complicated, Andrea.”

“Explain it to me! I can understand the obvious things by myself but... You’re a lesbian?” Andy’s eyes filled with tears, “What are we doing here?”

Miranda clenched her teeth nervously, her eyes gleaming with tears. The orange coat she was wearing made her look like an exotic bird in the middle of her colorless apartment. Andy felt a pang of hurt in her chest at seeing the woman she loved suffering, but they needed to have this conversation.

“It’s true, that I am a lesbian, I mean,” she said hugging her purse tighter, “At first I hid it from the world to _advance_ in my career, having certain... tendencies wasn’t acceptable back then and I was already struggling by being a woman. Then I hid it to _protect_ my career, believing that I could be happy with a man who loved me and appreciated me. He hadn’t been happy when he found out about the truth.”

She stopped shuffling on her feet, “Then I couldn’t stop: the lie had been going on for too long, how could I reveal such a thing and not being accused of being a liar? And not seeing my girls being taken away from me?”

Andy could hear and feel the hurt in Miranda’s voice. It made tears stream down her cheeks.

“But that is not the point.” She concluded, “The reason why I am here is because of you, Andrea. You’re amazing, smart, cunning and beautiful. But most importantly you’re something that I have never been in my life: kind. Wherever you go, you bring joy only with your presence. You even managed to make me happier than I ever was, freer. Andrea,” her eyes glistened with unshed tears, “You make me believe that I can become a better person.”

Andy didn’t know what to do. She desperately wanted to believe her words, but betrayal still clouded her reason.

“Listen, Andrea,” she sighed, frustrated, “The reason why I haven’t let you touch me is because I was terrified of falling in love with you. And I know that it’s stupid and cliché but I really believed that I could touch you without being affected. It’s clear now that it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done because, Andrea,” her mouth trembled under the power of her own emotions, “I love you.”

Andy’s mouth partly opened in disbelief. She couldn’t believe she heard those words coming from Miranda. She didn’t think about it twice and got closer to Miranda to kiss her.

Their lips met roughly, dominated by the passion they were sharing. Andy felt Miranda put her arms around her waist. She put her hands on Miranda’s soft white neck.

When they parted, they stayed still for some moments with their foreheads touching and their noses slightly bumping. Andy lifted a hand, drawing it closer to Miranda’s cheek. She watched as the older woman’s eyes closed at the feeling of Andy’s caress. A single tear fell from her eye and Andy gathered it on her finger.

“I love you too, Miranda.” Andy whispered. She felt ready to face everything that would have come their way.

_________

Miranda watched as Andy stretched in her bed, whimpering quietly as she woke up. Her almost naked back was lit up by the few rays of sunshine that got through the curtains.

The night before Miranda had finally let herself go. After years of hiding, Andy’s lips on her skin had felt like opening her eyes to see true colors after years of black and white. She had started to believe that she could go on with the rest of her life without loving another woman again, without feeling the touch of another woman on her skin. She was 51 for god’s sake, did she really need to take yet another risk for... love? It had felt like something incredibly out of character for her.

But it wasn’t. As much as everyone liked to depict her as heartless, she really wasn’t. She tried to avoid her feelings, to not count them as something important, but when they hit her, they hit her hard and she was always consumed by them. That was what scared her the most of loving Andy.

Because Andy was an idealist, an optimist and she knew that she wouldn’t have left her without trying everything they could first. She knew that Andy would love her in secret if she asked, that she would wait until she was ready. Miranda didn’t deserve her, she was really sure of it. Not after everything she had sacrificed for her own gain and not after all the bodies she had left behind through her schemes and fears.

She didn’t feel ready to sacrifice Andy.

Andy turned around to face her, “Good-morning,” she said with a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Good-morning.”

Andy reached out to caress her cheek, “What are you thinking about?”

“Breakfast.” Miranda said, with a small smile.

“Breakfast?” Andy got closer, hovering a bit, “I hope you’re thinking about real breakfast, because I’m not sure I’d be able to get at it again after tonight.”

Miranda chuckled, posing her fingers delicately on Andy’s lips, “I’m thinking about coffee.”

“Oh, coffee,” Andy nodded, her doe eyes shined with happiness.

“And a kiss.” Miranda added, letting her hand fall from Andy’s lips.

“A kiss."

Andy leaned in to place her lips softly against hers. Miranda smiled, caressing Andy’s hair.

It all felt so good. If she thought about the first time they met, Miranda certainly hadn’t expected to share a bed with the clumsy girl of that interview, nor she had expected that her happiness would have soon laid in her hands.

“Ow,” Andy said, wincing as she broke the kiss.

“What?” Miranda asked, worried.

“I just realized I have to find myself a new job.”

She chuckled again, “Andrea,” She said, disbelief evident in her voice.

“I should, right? Find a new job.”

Miranda knew what Andy meant. She wasn’t asking the permission to go, nor Miranda would expect her to ask. She was asking if their relationship was real now, serious even, if Miranda was ready to try to find happiness with her.

“Yes, you should.” She smiled, “Even if I’ll miss having you home every night.”

“We will invent something.”

Miranda let Andy lay on her, with her head on her chest. She hugged her tight, thinking about the exciting and dangerous adventure that they were embarking on. She closed her eyes, enjoying the peace she felt, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song at the beginning of the chapter is Treacherous by Taylor Swift.
> 
> this is the last chapter! i had fun writing this fic and it helped me ease my mind a little from all the stress i'm experiencing lately. i hope it had the same effect on you too! sorry again for the clichés and the lack of originality. leave kudos or comments if you feel like to! thanks for reading.


End file.
